The Beads of Nemesis (18 page)

“But you don’t like her either,” Peggy stated as a known fact.

“Do you?” Kimon added, his smile the image of his father’s when he was most determined to bend her to his will. “You said you thought her silly, and so she is! You should have seen her when she arrived, running down the steps to the beach and practically sitting on top of Daddy! I hope she knows that he married you?” he added, giving the coin he was looking at a fierce jab with his finger. “You did tell her, didn’t you?”

“Of course she knows!” Morag replied. “She was there when we got married.”

“Oh, good!” the boy said with relief. “She can have Takis if she likes.”

Peggy nodded soberly. “Good idea,” she agreed.

“No, it isn’t a good idea. It’s a terrible idea, unless they both happen to want it that way,” Morag protested. “Why were you making so much noise just now? Grandma doesn’t like it when you shout at one another in the house!” It was bad enough that Dora should have decided that Takis could entertain Delia, without the children getting the same idea! No, Morag wanted her stepsister gone as quickly as possible, not playing around with anyone as close to the family as Takis.

“We were having an argument,” Kimon told her.

“About you,” Peggy added.

“Me?” Morag asked.

Kimon turned and looked at her. “Did you invite Delia here, or did she ask herself? Peggy says that Daddy asked her!”

Morag replied abruptly. “She asked herself!” she said. “That’s

what I thought,” said Kimon. “But Peggy says she heard Daddy and Grandma talking, and that Daddy said - ”

“I don’t want to know.”

“He said you’d never be free,” Peggy went on where her brother had left off, “not until she came. Grandma said it was an awful risk!”

“You shouldn’t repeat other people’s conversations,” Morag quelled her. What had Pericles meant - she would never be free? She felt weak at the knees and more vulnerable than ever. Could he have meant free of him?

The children stared at her. “Are you all right, Morag?” Peggy asked.

“Yes, I’m all right. Will you be quiet now if I go and change for dinner?”

“Of course!” they agreed, full of injured innocence. “What are you going to wear?” Peggy said almost in the same breath. “I suppose your gold dress would be too grand?”

“Yes, I think so,” Morag said, not thinking what she was saying. “I’m going to wear my jade pendant, though.”

Peggy screwed up her face thoughtfully. “Yes,” she approved. “And with your hair loose. Daddy likes it better that way.”

Now when could, she have heard him say that? Morag wondered. Had he really voiced an opinion and, if he had, what else had he said?

It seemed strange not to go to the room she had had before, the one which was now Delia’s. She had to restrain herself from knocking on the door of Perry’s room. It didn’t seem like hers at all. To her relief it was empty. She turned on the light feeling like a burglar. She was glad to see that there was no trace of her possessions anywhere. At least she didn’t have to feel she was imposing on him.

The dress she chose to wear was not new. Delia would have seen it hundreds of times before, she thought with a wry smile in the glass, but she looked nice in it and part of the pattern was green to match the jade pendant Pericles had given her. It made her eyes look greener than ever too, and she thought how suitable that was too. Green-eyed meant jealous, and that was exactly what she was. She was jealous of any other woman

Pericles looked at.

She brushed her hair into a cloud round her head, ready to fasten it into the nape of her neck. Then she hesitated. Should she leave it free as Kimon had suggested? She fingered the loose ends and decided that she would, even if it did make her look younger and as vulnerable as she felt. Last of all, she looked for the jade pendant to hang round her neck, but she couldn’t' find it anywhere. Annoyed to think that she had left it behind when she had brought the rest of her things from the other room, she decided she would have to go back to Delia’s room to look for it. She hurried down the corridor before she could change her mind, coming to a stop outside the door.

At first she could not believe her ears. It was Pericles that she could hear through the shut door. She stood completely still, unable to bring herself to move, just as Delia’s tinkling bell laugh rang out. A second later the door opened and Pericles stood before her.

“What do you want?” he asked her.

“I - ” She put a hand up to her mouth, found herself quite unable to continue, and turned on her heel and fled.

She did not get far. His arm flashed out and held her hard against him. “Well, Morag? Are you reducing to listening outside doors now?”

“No,” she whispered.

“No? Then what are you doing?”

It was ridiculous to feel so guilty. Surely it was he who was that! What had he been doing in Delia’s room?

He let her go with a suddenness that unbalanced her and had to put out a hand against the wall to save herself from falling. “Well, I hope you liked what you heard!” Pericles shot at her.

“I didn’t hear anything!”

“Then what were you doing?”

She tried to hide her face from him. “I wanted my jade pendant. I must have left it behind when I moved - moved my

things - ”

“Into my room?”

She nodded, rubbing her shoulder where she had caught it against the wall. “May I get past, please?”

There was an inscrutable look on his face. “I didn’t know you’d moved,” he told her. “I couldn’t see any of your things around.

Do you always keep everything so neat?’ “Please, may I get past?”

His eyes glinted. “What will you give me if I do?” “Nothing” She was very sure of that. She gave a mutinous lift to her chin. “I wonder you should ask since you’ve probably already had everything you can want from Delia!” His hand caught her round the arm and hauled her relentlessly back into the room she now shared with him. With his other hand, he slammed the door shut behind them.

“Now,” he said, “you can tell me exactly what you mean by that!”

She licked her lips nervously. “I only meant - ”

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“That won’t do, Morag. For once you’re going to tell me just what’s going on inside that head of yours. What should I want from Delia?”

She struggled vainly against his restricting hands. “She’s - very attractive!” she said feebly.

“Yes, she is,” he agreed readily.

The colour came and went in her cheeks. Her eyes fell before his. “I know you find her attractive.”

“And you’re jealous of her? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No, of course not! I think she’s attractive too!”

“Is that so?” he drawled. “It seems to me that you don’t like her at all. Why don’t you ask outright what I was doing in her room?”

“Oh!” she gasped. “You can do as you like!”

“I shall,” he retorted.

She wept inwardly. As if she didn’t know that! The first time he had seen Delia, he had wanted to kiss her - he had even asked Morag if she thought he could as her future stepbrother-in-law. And it hadn’t stopped there! He had insisted that she came to Greece for as long as she wanted, regardless of anything that Morag had said to him. And now he was visiting her in her room!

“You promised that you would pretend to my family that you -that you liked me!” she reminded him on a note of desperation.

“I promised I’d protect your pride while we were in England. But, if you remember, I told you the price you’d have to pay for my pride would ask a great deal more than a few kisses of you!”

“I - I didn’t agree to pay any price for your pride!” she stammered. “You haven’t any choice - as my wife,” he pointed out. She wrenched herself away from him. “I’ve done everything you asked! I don’t see what more I can do!”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I can’t remember that you’ve actually offered anything,” he said. “If it had been left to you, you’d still be addressing me as Mr. Holmes!” “Oh,” her stifled gasp betrayed her consternation. “But I told you that - that I liked - ” her voice dropped to a whisper, “you to kiss me.”

“I might like being kissed by you!”

She was silent for so long that she thought he’d lose all patience with her, but he went on standing there, waiting, “Delia would like to kiss you,” she said.

His mouth kicked up at the corners. “You don’t say!” Her eyes flew to his face. “You mean you knew why she came here?”

“I’d be a fool not to, my dear, I have a certain amount of experience of your sex, I am not in the least bit sorry to say. If she succeeds, though, you will have only yourself to blame.”

She gave him a look of mute enquiry. If he could read Delia with such ease, could he also read the secrets of her heart? she wondered.

“You could compete with her,” he told her dryly. “I find you attractive too, as you very well know!”

Her heart jerked within her. “But I’m your wife!” she exclaimed.

He nodded soberly at her. “Yes, you are. Don’t let me have to remind you of it again!”

He stood back and opened the door for her, a glint of amusement in his eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, but took to her heels and fled down the corridor, anywhere, just so that she could be out of sight of his mocking challenge.

Delia’s triumphant air was very hard to bear. Morag watched her covertly across the table and was astonished at the depth

of feeling that consumed her whenever her stepsister’s tinkling laughter rang out in response to some sally from Pericles. Delia knew exactly what she was doing. It was the old, old story, unfolding like a tired, seen-too-often-film, of finding someone else’s grass much greener than one’s own. Morag had watched it all before, only then it had been David whom Delia had wanted and Morag had been able to find all sorts of excuses for her, and for David too, who had fallen flat at Delia’s feet and had taken it for granted that Morag would understand.

She had understood, that was the trouble. Naturally, David had found Delia more interesting and more fun than herself, everybody always did. It had been just the same at school where Morag had once heard one of Delia’s friends commiserating her for having to live with such a dull person.

“Morag never says anything,” the girl had complained.

“How do you live with her silent criticism of you all the time?”

Delia had laughed. At the time she had still been practising the tinkling bell laugh and it hadn’t always worked. That time it had slipped into an eff-key bray. “Nobody likes Morag,” she had said.

It wasn’t true, of course. There had been many people who had liked Morag very much, many who had preferred her vastly to her stepsister, but they had never been made welcome at the Grant house and Morag had practically given up asking them to her home. But such remarks don’t have to be true to be hurtful, and it had been one of a whole series of pinpricks that had robbed her of much of her confidence, more especially when she came into contact with anyone new who had not known her since her babyhood, when her mother had been alive and had surrounded her with all the love she needed.

David had liked her at first. He had broken into her thirst for friendship like a glass of cool, clear water. He had particularly liked to dance with her. “You should always be seen when you’re doing something,” he had told her. “Never sitting still!” She hadn’t paid him much attention, but she had been pleased that he had thought about her at all.

After a while, she had even taken him home. It had been a curious, platonic relationship, with David making use of her notes and very often asking her to write his essays as well as her own for the tutor they shared at the college they both attended. “When we’ve done with all these exams,” he’d said to her one day, “I’ll put you out to work and let you keep me forever!”

It had seemed to Morag the most glorious moment of her life. “Do you mean you’ll marry me?” she had asked him.

He had shrugged his shoulders, as shy as she. “Why not?” he had said.

It was only then that Delia had started taking an interest in him. In a moment of weakness when Delia had been feeling particularly charming, Morag had confided in her that she and David were getting married. “Not yet!” she had said, “but one day when David has a proper job.” She had forgotten all about his threat to send her out to work for him!

Delia had smiled at David and then she laughed. “A man,” she had said, with a flutter of her eyelashes, “would want more than the cool embrace of someone as innocent as Morag Grant. It takes an old man to want liking instead of love - a young man should be looking for fire and enthusiasm, something that Morag could never rise to!”

David had promptly thought so too. He had tried to explain to Morag the excitement he found in being with her stepsister, when Morag had found the two of them entwined on the sofa in her father’s study one Sunday afternoon. “One has to have a bit of fun!” he had ended, looking considerably ill at ease.

Well, they’d had their fun and Morag tried not to mind. Once or twice she had tried to clear up her own position as far as David was concerned, but he had put her off with the occasional date, telling her that she didn’t understand. Delia didn’t mean anything to him! But that, she had thought, was a lie, for he had gone on seeing far more of Delia than he ever had of herself, right up until that last, terrible night when she had crashed the car and killed him.

“David always said you’d do anything he asked you to!” Delia had sobbed. She had looked remarkably unattractive at that moment, her face grey with shock, and her clothes and hair

mussed as much from David’s attentions as from the crash.

“You’d better get into bed,” Morag had said. “I’ll go down to the car and wait for the police.”

It had been better that way. It had been the way David would have wanted it. But Delia could not have Pericles too! Morag sat back in her chair and looked at her stepsister with a cold, objective eye. She was attractive, of course, but it was a shopworn, Christmas decoration kind of attraction that looked tawdry in the full light of day. Little hard lines were beginning to crease her face from nose to mouth and, though she laughed frequently, her eyes were hard and never laughed at all. Morag had always known her to be selfish, but it had not previously occurred to her that Delia never gave anything away. She would take from any man, but she would give nothing that was worthwhile in return.